


come home to my heart

by inkwelled



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Catra, Childhood Friends, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Friends to Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Mild Language, Mutual Pining, New York City, Past Child Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Photograph Journalist Adora, Pop Culture, Shadow Weaver's A+ Parenting, Sharing a Room, Strained Friendships, and they were ROOMMATES, minor character relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 09:52:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17139602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkwelled/pseuds/inkwelled
Summary: When Adora Eternia puts an ad for a roommate in the newspaper, she never expects who answers.oroh my god they were roommatesON HIATUS FOR NOW AS OF 4/02





	come home to my heart

**Author's Note:**

> oh my GOD it's finally here folks! part one of three of my modern day roommates au is published - each chapter (i predict) will be about 10k. i'm so excited for you to see what's in store, i've worked tirelessly on this for so long and kept it under wraps as long as i could.
> 
> as always, shoutout to the ot50 and my beta readers, hannah and joelle! despite not knowing what the hell was going on, joelle did her best and i'm still laughing over hannah's late-night screaming over this. 
> 
> title ; [supercut by lorde](https://genius.com/Lorde-supercut-lyrics)
> 
> one final note!! i have no schedule for this, so while the second part is halfway done, i don't know when i'll update next. stay tuned though - updates will be posted on my twitter (adorascatrq) and tumblr (nymphrva)
> 
> enjoy!!

"You aren't nervous?!"   
  
Adora moves absent-mindedly around the small space of her living room, or what could be called her living room. "No," she hums, fluffing a pillow before picking at an invisible piece of dirt only she can see.   
  
"This girl could be a serial killer!"   
  
To their right, Glimmer snorts. 

She's lounging in her favorite piece of furniture in Adora's tiny NYC apartment, an egg chair they had found at a thrift store that took all three of them to haul up the steps to her second-floor apartment. "She's not going to be a serial killer, Bow."   
  
"You don't know that!" Bow exclaims, voice breaking slightly. He waves his arms around the space. "She could be for all we know! We could be inviting a murderer into our best friend's apartment, Glimmer!"   
  
Adora pats his hand. 

"For all it matters, she didn't sound like a serial killer on the phone. And you won’t be the ones responsible if she  _ is _ a murderer because I was the one who invited her."   
  
Over the strangled noise Bow makes, Glimmer laughs, twirling a strand of her hair. "Do you know anything about her," she says, mockingly glaring at Bow, "besides the fact she isn't a killer?"   
  
"We don't know that!"   
  
Adora rolls her eyes, smiling. "Her name is Catherine, she's a freelance artist, and she needs a place to stay. It's all the information I asked for on the flyer, and it's better than the other caller."   
  
Her best friends shudder at the thought.    
  
"At least I didn't put my address on the flyer," she says, moving into the kitchen space to wipe at the countertop with a finger, "or it would've gotten a lot worse than a phone call."   
  
"Small victories," Glimmer hums, and the doorbell rings.   
  
Butterflies raise in Adora's stomach. Her new roommate and she had talked for a little over a week now, but she realizes she doesn't know what Catherine looks like.    
  
"I guess that's her."   
  
There's the sound of Bow collapsing onto the couch with a heavy sigh, and then he yelps as Glimmer throws a pillow at him. "Shut up, Bowman," she says, and Bow growls playfully.   
  
"You know I hate when you call me that!"   
  
Adora giggles and she's still giggling when she slides the bolt and opens the door.   
  
"Hi, Cathe..."   
  
Adora stares.   
  
Catherine stares right back.   
  
Silence.   
  
Then, "Catra?"   
  
In front of her, bag slung over her shoulder, guitar case strapped to her back, stands her childhood best friend. Catherine and Adora Weaver were inseparable as kids, fostered by the same family. Adora remembers curling up in bed next to the scared little girl, holding her hand on the first day of school, spreading concealer over Catra's arm when their  _ mother _ lost her temper.   
  
"Adora?" Catra whispers, and behind her, Glimmer makes an excited noise.   
  
_ "You're _ Catra?"   
  
The light in Catra's eyes blinks out, and Adora's stomach does flops sickeningly. It reminds her of their last fight, that day  _ she _ was adopted into the Eternia household that allowed her to meet Bow and Glimmer. That day when Catra stood on the stoop, Mrs. Weaver's hand on her shoulder, nails digging into her skin, waving goodbye to the closest thing she had to family.   
  
"Adora's told us so much about you!" Bow gushes, going to pull Catra into a hug which she quickly deflects. Catra shoves her hands into her pockets, a scowl creeping towards her eyes.    
  
An awkward silence falls over the four of them until Glimmer clears her throat. 

She wraps her hand around Bow's arm, tugging. "Well," she says, "it was nice to meet you Catra, but Bow and I have to go do...something. See you around!"

Bow protests, stumbling, as Glimmer makes a beeline for the staircase. His voice fades as they make an escape down the stairs to the first floor, and Adora wishes she could go with them.

Anything but confronting the only person she’s ever loved.   
  
"Do you want to come in?" she says softly, eyes firmly fixed on the hardwood in front of Catra's beat-up Vans, and her former best friend scoffs.   
  
"If this is where I'm staying I guess I'll have to," she grumbles, and Adora closes the door after her. When Catra slips past her into her apartment, she’s is almost knocked to her knees at the scent.   
  
Fresh paint, cedar wood and the clean scent of cinnamon wash over her. Instantly Adora remembers the first night they kissed, three days before she was adopted. She remembers the chapped friction of Catra's lips against her own, the quiet moans as she pushed her into the sheets and they both let hesitant, wandering hands roam free.   
  
She remembers Catra never returning her calls.   
  
For a minute, they stand there. The air is thick with tension, enough that Bow would make a joke about cutting it with a knife, and Adora straightens her shoulders.   
  
She can do this.   
  
"Well, this is it," she says, clearing her throat and gesturing around the space. "It's not much but it's home."   
  
She ignores Catra's humorless chuckle.   
  
"You can drop your stuff here for now," Adora continues, "do you want a small tour before you settle in?"   
  
"I can see everything from here," Catra snarks, "but whatever, yeah I guess."   
  
Adora swallows her heart, pasting on a smile. "Alright. Come on in."   
  
"Here's the kitchen. Be careful with the fridge, the third shelf is off-balance and shifts if you don't put things on carefully enough. You have to hit the side of the toaster twice for the bread to pop, but it works well enough."   
  
Catra makes a noise indicating she's heard, and Adora moves on. 

"This is the dining room," she says, setting her hand on the back of a chair. "I have four because I have friends over for dinner a few times a week. You can too, I’ll clear out when you want."   
  
"You won't have to worry about that," Catra scoffs, moving deeper into the apartment.   
  
Adora ignores the ache in her chest.    
  
"It's okay," she says cheerfully, burying that stinging deep in the pit of her stomach and forcing herself to grin at Catra's back, "you can join us if you want."   
  
"Yeah, no."   
  
Adora makes a frustrated noise. "Just pretend to care," she stresses, brushing past Catra's slumped form on the couch to gesture to the small hallway. "Your bedroom's down there, with the bathroom, the far right. Mine is the first door, yours is the second. I hope my old office works."   
  
"It's fine," Catra huffs, swinging herself off the couch and brushing past her to grab her bags. "I'll get out of your hair."   
  
Adora catches her arm. "Catra," she says softly, heart breaking when Catra's eyes dart down to where her palm is wrapped around her wrist, "you were never a bother. You know that."   
  
"Whatever," she derides, shaking off Adora's grasp. "I'm going to go settle in. Go out with your  _ friends _ or something."   
  
"Cat-" Adora protests, but Catra disappears down the hall. Adora follows, her name still on the tip of her tongue, but the bedroom door shuts in her face before she can reach out again.   
  
She sighs, dragging a hand down her face. The butterflies are back, rioting in her stomach and flapping up into her throat, choking her with the memory and scent and feel of someone she hasn't seen in well over a decade.   
  
Adora rests her forehead on the door. "Call if you need anything," she says softly, "your key is on the table."   
  
Silence.   
  
"For the record," Adora swallows, closing her eyes and wishing she could hear anything inside the bedroom, "I missed you, despite everything you must think."   
  
The apartment door clicks closed behind her, and on the other side of the bedroom door, Catra covers her mouth and fights back sobs. Tears burning down her cheeks, she angrily scrubs at her face before curling up on the bare mattress she had Scorpia deliver the day before.

  
  
  
  
"What did she say?"   
  
Adora groans into her hands, dropping her forehead onto the table. "Nothing!" she exclaims, "That's the problem!"   
  
Bow sips from his mug as Glimmer pats her arms. "What happened between you two?"   
  
Looking up at her adopted sister from the safety of her crossed arms, Adora sighs. "We used to be best friends. Our foster mom, Linda," she almost hisses her name, "was abusive. But she threatened to leave us on the street if we ever told anyone, so we stayed silent. It was just the two of us against the world."   
  
Adora's voice drops. "And I left her."   
  
Glimmer rubs her arm again. "I didn't know," she says softly, "I'm sorry, 'Dora. Was it all bad?"   
  
"No," Adora shakes her head. "Not for me. But Weaver was always harder on Catra than me. All those years, I did nothing. I stood by, finally told her about - y’know, then left three days later. We never saw each other again, she never returned my calls, texted me back."   
  
She wraps trembling hands around her lukewarm mug, filled to the brim with the tea Glimmer had made but she hadn't touched. "The last time I saw her was when we were driving away," she says, swallowing tears, "Weaver was digging her nails into Catra's shoulder, and Catra waved once. She was smiling, but I saw the light in her eyes die and I don't think she ever got it back."   
  
Bow scoots his chair closer. 

"I'm sorry, Adora," he says, wrapping his arms around her and she leans into her pseudo-brother's touch, "but it wasn't all your fault. You had to take care of yourself, too."   
  
"I know. But we made a promise to stick together. We said nothing bad would happen as long as we had each other. I broke that promise."   
  
Glimmer's face contorts. "I've never met this Linda Weaver," she spits, "but I sure would like to have her nose meet my fist."   
  
Adora chuckles, a forced and humorless sound.   
  
"It wouldn't help now," she shrugs, taking a weak sip of her tea, "and anyways, Catra always gave her hell. I'm pretty sure she left as many scars on her as Weaver did us. Especially her."   
  
Adora doesn't realize what she's said until she lowers the cup and finds her two best friends staring at her. "What?"   
  
"You have scars?" Bow whispers and Adora's heart drops.   
  
"Oh, yeah," she says, staring down at the table they built when Glimmer and Bow moved in together, tracing her pinky nail across the wood grain, "I thought I told you guys about that. Why else do you think I refuse to wear bikinis?"   
  
Silence.   
  
Glimmer blinks. "I thought you just liked to be a little more conservative," she all but whispers, staring down into her mug, breath coming raggedly. "I didn't know, I'm so sorry, all those times I tried to make you wear backless shirts and dresses-"   
  
"Mer."   
  
Glimmer looks up through tears. Adora smiles best she can, her own tears swimming along her waterline. "It's okay. You didn't know."   
  
Her adopted sister's arms come around her shoulders and Adora closes her eyes, letting her own tears drip down her cheeks. Glimmer has always been shorter than her, but Adora has no greater place than in her hugs. She feels Bow's arms coming around too, and they sit there, Bow's head against her right shoulder blade as Glimmer rubs circles into her upper back.   
  
"We love you," Glimmer whispers, pulling back. Adora isn't surprised to see her eyes rimmed red too. "And we're here for you. You  _ and _ Catra."   
  
"I don't think she'd like that," she laughs tearily, smiling, but pulls her sister back into a hug, "but too bad. I won't break my promise this time."

  
  
  
  
"Catra? Are you here?"   
  
There's no sound from the back of the apartment and Adora sighs. Her keys clink into the small bowl by the door and she toes off her shoes before wandering deeper into the main room.    
  
It's approaching evening, the sun starting to set and she opens the curtains to let in the dying light. She stands at the window for a moment, wonders if Catra's sleeping or if she’s awake and hungry.   
  
Right on cue, her own stomach rumbles. Adora wanders back into the kitchen, ties her apron while paging through the cookbook.    
  
She stops, finger halted on a bolded title.   
  
Adora smiles.   
  
Thirty minutes later, Adora brushes a sweaty strand of her hair back and pulls the pan from the oven. Steam billows from the oven, fogging up her glasses, and she looks up to someone giggling.   
  
Catra stops laughing as their eyes meet, scowl falling back into place as Adora tries to smile. "Hey. I thought this might coax you out."   
  
Falling into one of the seats, Catra straightens the fork next to her plate. "Yeah, well, the entire apartment smells like garlic and cheese and butter. Also, you look like an idiot."   
  
Adora snorts, placing the sheet on the counter before scooping up the pieces. On the stovetop, the spaghetti boils and the white sauce simmers lightly. She reaches over and turns off both burners. "You settling in okay? I hope the office is good, I figured you might appreciate your own space."   
  
She carries the pot to the table then and starts when Catra appears beside her, setting down the garlic bread plate. 

"What?" Catra says defensively when Adora looks at her, surprised. "I can help out, y'know. Don't act so shocked."   
  
Adora looks away, clearing her throat, trying not to show how fast her heart is racing at how close their faces were. "I wasn't surprised at you helping," she says, "just at how quiet you were. I didn't even hear you get up."   
  
Catra slides back into her seat as Adora takes hers. "You always did say I was like a cat."   
  
Snorting, Adora dishes out the pasta. "Well you were!" she laughs, and for a split second forgets herself. "Or you certainly acted like one whenever we climbed into bed together."   
  
Catra freezes and Adora's eyes widen as she realizes what she's said.   
  
Silence falls between them, and Catra rips into her piece of garlic bread with vigor. The rest of dinner passes quickly, but not quickly enough, and Catra pushes back from the table.   
  
"Thanks for dinner," she mutters and without thinking, Adora lays her hand on hers.    
  
"Catra."   
  
As if she's been burned, Catra rips her hand out from underneath Adora's palm. "I'll clean up," she all but snarls and Adora's mournful sigh is covered by the sink's running water.   
  
"Catra, I'm sorry."   
  
Adora turns in her seat, watching Catra scrub at her plate with more force than necessary, the sauce already washed away. "It's fine," she grits out, and Adora's opening her mouth when her phone rings.   
  
She stares at it, and Catra rolls her eyes. "Well, answer it."   
  
Shooting her roommate a concerned look, frustrated with her lack of control over this situation of her own doing, Adora picks up her phone. Glimmer's name flashes on the screen, accompanied by a silly photo of her with carrot sticks jutting from her mouth, and Adora brings it to her ear.   
  
"Hey, Mer."   
  
Catra winces, scrubbing harder at the plate in front of her. She winces then, too, as Glimmer's voice floats through the phone. "'Dora, hey! How did dinner go?"   
  
Sparing a glance at her roommate, Adora excuses herself from the table. Once she's behind her bedroom door, she collapses onto the small ottoman in the corner by her clothing rack and sighs.    
  
"It sucked."   
  
She can  _ hear _ Glimmer's pout. "What happened?"   
  
Adora rakes a hand down her face. "I accidentally brought up something from our childhood because we started to banter," she says, nervous fingers picking at her jeans, "and now she isn't talking to me. Again."   
  
"Did you apologize?"   
  
"Yes!" she exclaims, throwing her hand up in the air before it slaps back down on her knee. "I did! And she just ignored me and pulled back inside herself again. I don't know if I can do this, Mer."   
  
"Have you talked about what happened?"   
  
Adora reads between the lines and sighs. "No. We need to, though, don't we?"   
  
"Yeah, you do," Glimmer says, and there's the muffled noise Adora knows is her flopping onto her bed. "Neither of you will be able to move on and maybe be friends again if you don't address the elephant in the room."   
  
Glimmer giggles then. "Considering how small your apartment is, though, sooner would be better than later."   
  
"Very funny," Adora snarks and Glimmer laughs again. 

Adora's voice softens. 

"Thanks, sis."

"Anytime," Glimmer remarks and Adora's chest warms. Despite everything, Adora knows how much Glimmer cares for her and vice versa. They may fight sometimes, but in the end, they're sisters through and through.   
  
Blood or not.   
  
"I should go," Adora says mournfully and Glimmer makes a thoughtful noise.   
  
"Good idea. Call me tonight before bed?"   
  
Adora nods. "Sure thing. I love you."   
  
"Love you too, 'Dora."   
  
Adora hangs up, setting the phone on her knee. Her screen lights up a minute later, and she swipes her finger over it.   
_  
_ **_Hawkeye's Stunt Double_ ** to  **_Adora-blue_ ** at  **_6:34 PM_ **   
Well???? Glimmer wouldn’t spill ANYTHING :,( _  
_   
**_Adora-blue_ ** to  **_Hawkeye's Stunt Double_ ** at  **_6:34 PM_ **   
Tell you later.   
  
She clicks her phone off and falls backward. Staring up at the ceiling, Adora grounds her palms into her eyes before sighing. Whether she likes it or not, she needs to confront Catra.   
  
Catra's loading the dishwasher when she pads out of her room. She makes it all the way to the island before the other woman stiffens.   
  
"Hey."   
  
She doesn't look up. "I told you I would clean up."   
  
Adora bunches up the sleeves of her sweater cardigan and joins Catra at the sink. "I know," she says softly, "but this isn't about the dishes."   
  
Catra doesn't stop scrubbing at the plate in her hand. "Oh, really?"   
  
"Catra."   
  
Her shoulders draw together and Adora sighs. She takes the plate from Catra's hands and raises her eyebrows when the other woman  _ lets her.  _ "Catra. Look at me. Please."   
  
Rolling her eyes, Catra drops her soapy hands against the sink lip. 

"Alright," she bites, looking Adora straight in the eye, "I'm looking at you. Now what."   
  
"I'm sorry."   
  
Catra blinks owlishly. "What?"   
  
Adora looks down at Catra's hands, pulling her sweater tighter around her as if the soft material can shield her from Catra's (expected) anger. "I'm sorry," she says, biting her lip. "I'm sorry for leaving you."   
  
Catra hisses. "Shut up, Adora."   
  
She shakes her head, stepping closer. Catra takes a step back, and Adora's chest aches. "Catra, please listen."   
  
_ "No," _ Catra bites, taking another step back until they're almost a foot apart. Her fist curls into the countertop's end, nails threatening to leave scratches on the flawless surface, "no. Shut up."   
  
Eyes pleading, Adora reaches for her. "Catra-"   
  
"Shut  _ UP!"  _ Catra hollers, ripping her arm back to cradle it against her chest. "Shut up! You don't get to come here and act like the victim - not after the shit you pulled ten years ago!”   
  
"What about the shit  _ you _ pulled?" Adora cries. "You could've texted me back! You could've answered my calls, tried to keep in touch like I did! I tried  _ so _ hard not to lose you-"   
  
Catra cuts her off.   
  
"You lost me the second you looked through the back window and waved," she hisses coldly, and Adora recoils. 

She can see the tears shimmering in Catra's eyes as she gestures around the apartment. "You lost me when you didn't come home. You lost me when you found a  _ new  _ family. You lost me when you abandoned me with Weaver, when you broke our promise!"   
  
"We had a promise!" Catra screams again, tears running freely down her cheeks now. "We made a DEAL, to always stay together because it would be  _ safe,  _ and you left! I had to fend for myself! All those years we were with Weaver, when we talked of escaping and yet in the end you left without me! Despite  _ EVERYTHING!" _   
  
_ "I DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE YOU!" _ Adora yells back, knuckles white as she clasps them to her chest as if she's trying to keep her heart in one piece. "I didn't  _ ask  _ to be adopted! I  _ WANTED _ you to come too, so badly!"   
  
"So why didn't you?"   
  
Adora freezes. "What?"   
  
Catra stares her down coldly. 

"You heard me," she hisses, stepping closer, and Adora takes a step back. The light in Catra's eyes dies again at the movement and Adora's chest splits in two.   
  
"So why didn't you take me too?"   
  
So unlike the second before, Catra's voice is small, quiet, almost like a surrender. Unheeded, tears slip down her chin, dotting her shirt, but she either doesn't care or doesn't notice.   
  
Adora stares at her best friend, her undiscovered lover, the person she once called her best friend and closest companion. "I'm so sorry for leaving," she whispers, "and I hope one day I can show you that I never will again. No matter what."   
  
Catra’s laugh is cold and it splits through her ribs. 

"Oh, Adora. It's too late for that."   
  
The sound of the bedroom door slamming vibrates through Adora's very bones. She breaks then, back pressed against the cabinets as she slides down until she's curled up on the floor. Adora buries her head in her crossed arms, heaves, and wishes she had stayed.   
  
If not for Catra, for herself.   
  
Her phone vibrates in her pocket.

She ignores it.    
  
Tears burning at the edge of her vision, she pulls her sweater tighter around her body, gulping down huge breathes as she tries to pull herself back together. There's a weight on her chest, pushing down, that voice in her ear she wished had gone away a long time ago, hissing it's  _ her fault, all of this is her fault, she betrayed the one person she loved the most. _ _  
_   
It  _ is  _ her fault though and the admission feels like a sledgehammer to her ribs. If Catra's screamed words, betrayal and anger dripping from each syllable weren't enough to slip between her bones and claw at her heart, the realization is.   
  
It's worse when she remembers how she forgot about Catra, then.   
  
Catra never returned her calls. Never opened her texts, and if she did, never responded. She sent letter after letter, and only after they came back unopened and stamped did she suspect anything. Adora remembers biking back to the row house, only to find it empty, door gaping open like a never-finished sentence on a blank page.    
  
Glimmer had set her hand on her shoulder, softly saying they could ask where the family living there had gone but Adora remembers shaking her head. That night, as Glimmer snored above her in the bunk bed, she remembers her thumb hovering over the  _ Delete Contact _ button.   
  
She never pushed it.   
  
Adora remembers rolling over, turning off the lamp clamped to the headboard. In the dark, she remembers how she checked her screen every night before bed, and never hit  _ Delete. _   
  
She wakes to sunlight on her face.   
  
Squinting, Adora rubs at her eyes before freezing as the night before filters in slowly. Catra and her in the kitchen, screaming. Tears running down chins, biting words, clenched fists.   
  
_ She's not on the floor. _   
  
Adora remembers curling up with her back against the island. She doesn't remember moving to the couch, or grabbing a blanket, or filling the glass of water on the coffee table in front of her.   
  
The last thing she remembers is the stiff feeling of tears drying on her cheeks, cementing her misery to her skin. When she tries to sit up, Adora winces. Although she may not remember falling asleep on her tile floor, her back does.   
  
Reaching for the water glass, she gulps it all down, trying to erase the stale taste in her mouth. She doesn't see the bright yellow sticky note until she sets down the empty glass.   
  
Scrawled across it is Catra's loopy handwriting. It's been over a decade since she's seen it, but she would recognize the stilted tail of the 'q' anywhere, the slight swoop to the 'l'.   
  
_ It's my turn to make dinner tonight, _ the note says, and Adora finds herself smiling widely at the doodled cat head beneath the words. The little drawing is crooked on the page, hastily done, and is blowing a perpetual raspberry at her.   
  
"Such a cat," Adora chuckles.    
  
She sticks it to the corner of her mirror, and schemes of buying her one of those tacky cat pillows from the five dollar bin the next time she's in Target.  _ Buy Catra cat pillow,  _ becomes a reminder in her phone.   
  
The apartment door clicks closed behind her and Adora all but skips down the stairs, camera case in the bag slung over her shoulder. It's early enough there's still a cool enough breeze to warrant a light jacket.   
  
Adora pulls her moto jacket closer to her body and slips her hands into her pocket. Walking briskly, she reaches the cafe in very little time and spares a glance at her watch.   
  
_ 9:49 AM _ the face ticks, and she shoots Lonnie a smile before sliding into one of the booths in the corner and setting up her laptop. Her clients will be here at 10 to discuss wedding photos for her and her fiancée, and Adora pulls out her mock-ups.   
  
"Adora Eternia?"   
  
She glances up, smiling at the two women before her. "Hello!" she says, sliding out of the booth to shake the first woman's hand. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there. Are you Natasha and Ella?"   
  
Adora takes the first woman's hand. She's tall, taller than her companion, with deep skin and dark eyes. In contrast, her hair is shockingly white, falling around her shoulders in subdued waves.   
  
The second woman smiles when Adora takes her hand too. 

Unlike her fiancée, Ella is shorter, rounder. Her pastel purple hair spills behind her shoulders in a ponytail, and her soft blue eyes roam Adora's face in a way that doesn't make her feel scrutinized.   
  
"Let's get started," Adora says once the pleasantries have passed.   
  
Over the next hour, Adora scribbles down notes about everything - the theme of their wedding, the flowers, the reception. Both are constantly smiling, laughing, and Adora notices how their eyes always seem to find each other no matter what.   
  
No doubt they're holding hands beneath the table.   
  
In that hour, Adora comes to find out the two fiancées are opposites in almost every sense of the word - except their eyes. Both have shining, kind eyes, and smiles that put Adora at ease at once. As their meeting comes to an end, Adora is quicker to a smile, a laugh.   
  
Ella, it seems, is quite the comedian.   
  
Both wave as they exit and Adora's just jotting down some last-minute notes when a shadow falls across her.   
  
She sighs. "I know, I know, I'll clean up and be out in a minute—”   
  
Bow stands next to her, eyebrow quirked.    
  
"Oh, hey," Adora says, face breaking into a smile at the sight of her friend. "What're you doing here?"   
  
He slides into the booth across from her. "I was in the neighborhood," he shrugs before tapping his pocket, "and you popped on my Snapchat map."   
  
Adora rolls her eyes. "I really need to disable that."   
  
Laughing, Bow leans forward, surveying her notes. "So? Got any ideas for the happy couple? What're they like?"   
  
"They're great," Adora gushes as she clips her notes back into her binder, sliding her laptop back into the case. "I can't wait to see how their engagement and wedding photos turn out. They're so cute."   
  
When they finally push their way out of the cafe, Bow links his arm through hers. "May I take you to lunch, m'lady?"   
  
At the mention of food, her stomach rumbles. Bow laughs, poking at her side and she twists away from his touch, flushing. "I didn't realize the time."   
  
Ignoring the dirty looks from the old man as they pass, Bow smirks. "For someone who has a watch, you're awful at keeping time 'Dora."   
  
"That's rich coming from you."   
  
When Bow gasps mockingly and takes a swing at her, though, Adora is prepared. She pulls him in, grinding her knuckles into his scalp until he cries for mercy and she releases him, stomach aching from her boisterous laughter.   
  
"I hate you," Bow pouts, "you messed up my 'fro!"    
  
Adora snorts. "Love you too, bro."   
  
Somehow, they reach the corner diner without any more public incidents.   
  
They cram into the barstools at the counter, and when Adora steals fries off his plate, Bow declares war and they spar with their forks. Metal clashes against metal and Adora laughs so hard she snorts.   
  
It's well past one when she finally meanders home. 

The apartment is silent when she calls out, so she curls up on the couch. Cracking open her book, Adora gives herself thirty minutes of downtime before she goes back over her notes and makes the final touches to her plans.   
  
Thirty minutes turns into two hours, and Adora blinks as she turns the last page in her book. Setting it down, she looks around the apartment before heading for the closet.   
  
Cleaning and rearranging always puts her in a better mood.    
  
Time becomes moot then, and Adora's in the bathroom, hair tied back, barefoot in the shower scrubbing. She's turned up the speaker so much, so invested in whatever latest pop song is on Pandora she doesn't notice Catra until she turns to wash out her sponge.   
  
Leaning against the doorframe, her roommate smirks. "Having fun, Heidi?"   
  
Adora looks down at her outfit and a blush creeps up her neck. She's in paint-spattered shorts, a black tank top, a floral handkerchief that keeps her bangs from falling in her eyes and she's been swinging her hips to the beat of the passing songs.   
  
"How long have you been standing there?"   
  
"Long enough," Catra says, still too smug for her own good and even though Adora knows they still need to sit down and talk about the night before, she roars mockingly and chases Catra through the apartment with the soapy sponge.

Socks slip over wood floors and it’s only after Adora nearly cracks open her skull on the corner of the island does Catra slow down.

"Quarter!" Catra shrieks, collapsing on the couch and Adora laughs breathlessly as her roommate's chest heaves. "I beg of you, quarter!"   
  
"Just this once!"   
  
Adora throws the sudsy mess in the sink and slumps down on the couch next to Catra. For a few long moments they try to catch their breath, and then Adora turns her head.  "Hey, Cat?"   
  
Catra looks at her, eyes sparkling with residual laughter. "Yeah?"   
  
"I really  _ am  _ sorry. Especially about last night."   
  
The smile drops from Catra's face, but the light doesn't completely disappear. Adora counts it as progress.   
  
Catra spins a finger around in one of her ringlets. "I'm sorry, too," she whispers, "and not just about last night. For all of it."   
  
"It's not your fault, though!" Adora says, sitting up to truly face the other woman. "It's mine! I'm the one who left, who didn't come back! I could've done so much  _ more  _ to stay in contact, and I'm so sorry."   
  
Catra glances down at her hands as they wave around in the air and gently places her palm on her bicep. Adora freezes like a deer in headlights and Catra winces but doesn't move her hand. "I should've let you reach out," she murmurs, "but I was angry. Angry at you, at your new family, at Weaver. I still am, but I understand. I forgive you. We both made mistakes."   
  
Adora's smiling when Catra catches her eye.    
  
"Friends?"   
  
When Adora holds out her pinkie, Catra freezes. She panics, moving to scoot back and not bring it up again but Catra catches her pinkie with her own and wraps her finger around Adora's.   
  
"Friends," she smiles, and Adora's smile is so wide it looks like it could split her face in two. 

They're far from okay, and Adora knows this. They’re miles and miles from being alright, from getting back to where they used to be, and Adora wonders if they ever will.

But with Catra’s pinkie wrapped around her own, the sun streaming in behind Adora to illuminate the high points of Catra’s face, Adora realizes she would wait a thousand years if it meant that one day they would be okay.

  
  


 

"Catra?"

There's no answer, and Adora huffs, frustrated. Logically, it's too much to think they're good after one night of barely touching the surface of years of trauma.  It's so hard to keep that in mind, especially when all Adora wants is to throw away her self-control and kiss Catra until the ache in her ribs goes away.

Adora knocks again. "Catra, I'm sorry."

"Go away," a muffled voice whispers from inside, and she sighs. Leaning her head against the door, Adora curses the last twenty minutes of her life.

Healing doesn't happen all at once.

_ "Why don't you wear short sleeves?" _

_ Catra freezes next to her, hand wrapped around the remote. It's late, the sun already set, and the Netflix logo flashes in her eyes. "What?" _

_ Being the idiot she is, Adora ignores the growl behind her roommates' words. "Why don't you wear short sleeves?" she says again, propping her chin up with her hand. "It's getting hotter out and you're always complaining about sweating through your shirts-" _

_ "I'm tired," Catra says abruptly, cutting her off.  _

_ The blanket falls from her lap, and Adora watches in shocked silence as she retreats hastily to her room. She doesn't think until too late it's the same reason she doesn't wear backless shirts. _

"Please just open the door," Adora begs quietly. Straining her ears, she thinks she hears sheets rustling before the room descends into silence again.

"I don't want to talk to you."

A month ago, Adora would've backed off at the cold retort. She would've retreated to her room, to the living room, to the corner of a cafe and waited for the air to clear. 

But she stands her ground.

She lays her hand on the doorknob. "I'm coming in, Catra. Is that okay?"

There's a grunt, and Adora pushes open the door.

It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust. Catra's mattress is pushed into the corner by the window and the girl in question is curled up, facing the wall. Even without the curtains drawn, Adora knows the room would be just as dark and the light from the hallway cuts harshly against the wood.

Catra all hisses at her, still turned away. "If you're going to insist on coming in, at least close the door. Not all of us like having all the lights on all the time."

The door clicks softly closed behind her, and Adora slides to the floor next to Catra's turned head. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, clasping her hands together and making sure to keep her voice down, "for not realizing sooner. I don't wear backless shirts, either."

She thinks Catra winces. It's hard to see through the darkness though, despite the hazy filter of the curtains on the lampposts outside. Adora sighs again.

"I didn't think-"

"That's the problem," Catra spits, still curled away from her, "you don't think."

Adora blinks, shocked. _"What?"_

Sighing, Catra reaches for her nightstand. The lamp clicks on, weakly illuminating her back but she doesn't move besides that. "You speak before you think," she hisses again, "and it's hurt more than one person before."

Adora reaches for Catra's shoulder. At the touch Catra recoils and Adora's hand hovers. 

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing!" Catra yells suddenly, causing Adora to jerk back. "You're always so  _ sorry,  _ always ready to fix everything. But you can't!"

Silence. The blade slips farther into Adora’s ribs. 

Tension that threatens to snap her neck rises. 

"Well excuse me for at least  _ trying, _ " Adora spits back. "It's more than you're doing! I'm trying to make it up to you so we can be friends again because-"

"Because why?"

Catra's voice is cold, edged sharper than the knife in her chest. Adora sucks in a breath, hand dropping into her lap. "Because I miss you. Missed. I don’t know. But I still do."

Silence crashes down like a wall between them.

Adora looks up when Catra laughs.

It’s a cold sound, humorless, and Catra's shoulders shake. "Cut the bullshit, Adora. I know you're lying, you've done it enough to my face. What's the  _ real reason _ you keep trying to get friendly with me? You had that chance a long time ago. You  _ were  _ a long time ago."

By now, Catra is sitting up in bed. Poison drips from her every syllable, and Adora’s chest squeezes. The quiet is deafening, Adora unable to form any kind of response from her numb lungs. 

Face turned just enough she can see it, a few tears slip down Catra’s cheeks. Unlike just moments ago, her voice is quiet. 

Restrained.

Mourning.

"Why do you insist on trying to break down every measure I've ever made to protect myself after you left?”   
  
“Catra-”

“-stop.” 

Adora clicks her mouth shut and Catra hangs her head. Every wall is down, broken and bashed and cracked, and Adora hates that  _ this _ is how she got by her defenses. 

She never wanted  _ this. _

“Why do you insist on doing this?” Catra whispers, so quiet Adora can hardly hear her, but it hurts all the same. Maybe even more than if she was yelling. “I was fine before you came back. I was fine after you left. I was fine. I  _ am  _ fine. Why do you do this? I just want-” her voice wavers. “-I just want to move on.  _ Please, Adora _ .”

The words stick in Adora’s throat and Catra swipes at the tears on her cheeks. Like a boat, she’s rocking back and forth over waves and waves of a decade worth of pent-up emotions that now spill over her palms. 

“Tell me _WHY!”_ she demands, screaming. The blanket is fisted in her palm, eyes blazing. Adora shrinks back. “TELL ME WHY! I WAS FINE! I  _ AM _ FINE! I DON’T NEED YOU TO BE FINE, I NEVER DID!”

Silence.

“ANSWER ME,  _ GODDAMNIT _ ADORA!  _ WHY?! _ ”

"Because I loved you," Adora whispers, swallowing down tears.

Catra freezes.

Time stops. 

Everything screeches to a halt as her brain catches up with everything she’s said.

Adora freezes then, too.

She clamps a hand over her mouth, but the damage is already done. Catra's laugh is an ugly thing that squeezes a cold fist around Adora's heart and she regrets every second since she waved goodbye from the backseat of that car.

"Past tense, huh?" Catra spits. 

"Catra-"

"Get. Out."

Adora stutters to her feet. 

The entire world feels thrown off, and she's barely out the door before it slams close, rattling the frame. She can't hear inside, but she slides down the wood and rests her head back against the surface.

"I loved you," she murmurs, not knowing if she doesn't care if Catra hears or if it's all moot at this point and she's packing to move out, "and I never should have left. I should have told you, I should've stayed. But I didn't, I left, and that's my fault. I ran, like a coward, barely looked back. I’m so sorry I hurt you when all I wanted was to be happy. 

Her breath is ragged.

“You were my happiness,” she whispers, tears slipping down her cheeks, “and I thought I could be happy without you. I thought we could be happy together - apart. I left everything I loved, and I’m sorry. I can’t say it enough.”

She sighs, rubbing her forehead, the aching pressure behind her eyes. 

"If you're gone in the morning, I'll understand." 

On the other side of the door, Catra rests her forehead against the surface. Barely daring to breathe, she turns the knob but the time it creaks open, Adora is already gone.

Catra sets her hand on the wood, feels the lingering warmth of Adora's body.

Adora passes her door the next morning, wide open. Catra herself is already at work, surprisingly a morning person compared to the high schooler Adora once knew.

Everything's still there, but the message is clear.

Catra is letting her back into her life, trusting her with an open bedroom door. She is taking a leap of faith to possibly let Adora back into her heart and as much as Adora wants to look for evidence of the life she left behind, she doesn't.

The bedroom door clicks closed, and Adora leaves a note on the table.

_ Trust goes both ways. Thank you. _

It’s slow, but progress is progress all the same.

The note is gone when she gets home, and Catra smiles wobbily from the other side of the countertop. Adora's apron is tied around her paint-splattered clothes from work, and she resists the urge to wipe away the yellow smudge on Catra's cheek.

Dinner is quiet, but as the minutes go by, Catra's shoulders relax. 

Small talk feels fake, forced, but as Adora washes up, Catra doesn't retreat into her bedroom. Instead, she stands shoulder-to-shoulder with her, drying the plates in simple and circular movements.

It's quiet, but the air isn't thick with tension.

They sit the same way they stand to wash the dishes. Netflix plays in the background, even though Adora thinks neither of them is really watching - it's some movie she's never read the book for.

"If you apologize one more time I will _literally_ rip out your vocal cords."

Adora blinks. "Huh?

"I can hear you thinking from here," Catra sighs, "and it's so loud I can hardly hear  _ myself _ think. So shut up, please, as I watch these two not communicate and whine about it."

She falls silent after that, forcing herself to focus on the movie. It's cute, about two high schoolers and letters written to the girl's crushes, but she finds her thoughts drifting off again.

The screen freezes and Catra sighs. The couch creaks. 

"Okay, what is it?"

Adora sighs then too. "I never apologized for what I did _or_ what I said. I really am sorry, Catherine, for everything-"

Setting a hand on hers, Catra cuts her off. 

"Adora."

The woman in question blinks up at her roommate, who smiles reassuringly. "Adora, it's alright. You've apologized a million times for something that wasn't all your fault. It was my fault too, and I need to apologize to you too."

Adora swallows. "No, Catra you don't understand-"

"I'm sorry Adora."

She freezes, the words getting stuck in her throat. She suspects whatever she was going to say is being blocked by the sudden urge to cry, but she stomps down the feeling. 

"Catra-"

"I'm sorry Adora," Catra murmurs again, looking down at their hands, laying on top of each other on the beat-up couch in Adora's apartment, "for blaming you for everything. Some of it was your fault, yeah, but I never let myself admit that some of it was mine too. Not just one of us is to blame and I need to learn that. I was so angry for  _ so long,  _ not just at you but at myself, so I let myself blame you. And I need to teach myself how to move on for that if we're going to be friends again-"

Catra's cut off by Adora pulling her into a hug. 

All at once, she's back in her childhood. Adora smells like she always had, like clean sheets and home and happiness and light, something reassuring, and Catra buries her head in her shoulder. Without her knowledge or permission, sobs wrack her body and she clings to Adora's shirt.

Her shoulder is wet, too, and Catra realizes she isn't the only one coming home. Adora's body is trembling against her own shaking body and they curl up like that, intertwined for the first time in almost a decade.

Neither one knows how long they're there. 

Catra's legs are cramping from their folded position, and the sun is long gone in the sky, leaving behind inky darkness. The curtains are still open, the TV screen highlighting Adora's hair as it tumbles against her shoulders, and Catra finds herself rubbing circles into her friend's back.

Every few minutes, their bodies still quiver with tears, but the other is there to soothe away any residual sadness. They are both still far from okay, both individually and together, but Catra combs through Adora's ends.

Adora's nails lightly scrape against her scalp, sending goosebumps racing up and down her spine. She shivers, but she's not cold.

They're both quiet and it's okay.

Catra doesn't know when she dozes off, only knows when she wakes.

The first thing she registers is that she's warm. 

Her vision is blurred by the soft oatmeal-colored edge of what she recognizes as Adora's couch blanket, and it takes her a minute to place where she is.  Sunlight streams through the still-opened curtains to her left and Catra scrunches her nose. Too quickly for comfort, that reassuring warmth becomes too much. She kicks off the blanket before freezing as someone murmurs next to her.

Catra looks down to see Adora's face snuggled into the junction of her shoulder. She stops moving immediately, holding her breath as Adora shifts before settling back in.

"Hey Adora," she purrs before becoming  _ very _ aware of Adora's hand on her thigh.

Her face flushes and the little voice in the back of her head whispers  _ very _ traitorous thoughts before Catra can stop them.  The blush deepens, and Catra prays Adora can't feel the way her heart speeds up, despite her ear being nestled directly atop her chest.

Heart banging against her ribs, Catra sucks in a breath as she slowly inches her trapped right arm from under Adora's side and instead moves it around her shoulder. At the motion, Adora falls further into her side and Catra relaxes back into the couch cushions.

In sleep, Adora looks younger. Despite not looking particularly old when she's awake, there's something about the tilt of her mouth that reminds Catra of waking up beside her when they were still in high school and held hands in the hallway. 

Adora groans, shifting again until her arm is thrown across Catra's chest and one of her legs is laying atop her thighs. Despite her friend's bony elbow digging into her hip, Catra smiles, closing her eyes.  She drifts halfway between wakefulness and sleep with the reassuring, familiar weight of Adora atop her. A feeling she hasn't experienced in over a decade. 

A feeling she hasn't let herself miss until now.

Catra curls her arm tighter around Adora's shoulders, drawing her in until Adora's breath puffs against her exposed neck. While the warmth stirs something up in the pit of her stomach, Catra just closes her eyes.

_"I love you,_ " she murmurs, drifting off with the knowledge they'll be okay.

Waiting until her breathing evens out, Adora opens her eyes and smiles up at her best friend, roommate, something and  _ everything  _ more. The sunlight falls across her face in a way Adora can't help but capture with her phone. Arching across her cheekbones, illuminating the sprinkling of freckles on Catra's cheeks and bridge of her nose, Adora kisses the column of her neck.

"I love you too."

If Catra hears her, or if she truly isn't asleep, she doesn't say a thing.

Adora doesn't admit to hearing her or responding, and life goes on.

Together.

She sets the picture as her home screen, hidden from everyone except who know her lock, and Glimmer and Bow smirk at her later when they get ahold of it. She flips them off, and the ribbing continues.

When Adora finally wakes for real this time, Catra is making pancakes. Neither one mentions the squeak that comes from her roommate when Adora leans over to set the table and her shirt rides up.

They both eat in silence, but Catra's fingers linger on her arm on the way out the door to her studio.

_ Friends. _

It's a Saturday, so Adora curls up at her desk with her notes. Glasses perched on the edge of her nose, she blows her bangs out of her eyes and gets to work. She migrates between her bedroom, the couch, the floor in front of the huge bay windows, the dining room table.

By the time Catherine turns her key and lets herself back in, Adora is bent over her binder on the couch. She sits cross-legged, and Catherine freezes because her fingers are covered in yellow oil paint and Adora glows in the late afternoon sunlight.

_ Damn it. _

"Hey, Adora."

When her roommate looks up, mouth splitting into a wide smile, Catra's heart all but leaps out of her chest. Gulping and hoping she doesn't see the blush creeping up her neck, Catra lets her own smile melt into a smirk. "I hate your nerd glasses."

Adora's smile turns into a playful scowl. "Hey!" she protests, shoving Catra's shoulder when she slumps down on the couch next to her, "I'm blind you can't make fun of me!"

"Too bad I already did."

Adora's laugh could solve every problem Catra's ever had. She throws her head back, cackling, and Catra has to physically restrain herself from kissing her.

_ Damn heart. _

It doesn't lessen over the weeks. If anything, the urge to grab onto Adora's belt loops and cradle her cheeks close and taste her chapstick grows exponentially.

Her paintings look like Adora.

Catra scowls and buries them behind the dilapidated couch in the corner she used to sleep on before she saw the flyer in the coffee shop and picked up the phone. She wonders what would've happened if she knew it was _her_  Adora.

Would she still have called? 

Catra decides she doesn't care because she's here.

For two weeks, things are a good quiet. They take turns making dinner at night, and the other does the dishes and the other dries them. It's a good system, a steady system, and Adora does what she does best.

Mess it all up.

“I tried to come home.”

Catra looks up. “What?”

Across from her, Adora swallows in a way Catra knows isn’t to swallow her salad. She’s been waiting for this bomb to drop all night; Adora was never as discreet as she thought she was. She was an open book that even after all this is time Catra was able to read. 

Her leg has been bouncing underneath the table all night, and her eyes shift around the main space of her apartment.

“After I got adopted,” she whispers.

_ Oh. _

Before Catra can open her mouth, Adora steamrolls over her. "You weren't answering any of my texts, or calls, so I biked across town lines with Glimmer and Bow one afternoon. We told Angela we were going to the ice cream parlor and then the park."

"Adora, lying? How....rebellious of you."

The jab at humor falls flat as Adora glares at her. Her hands are shaking, and Catra shuts her mouth.

"We found an empty house and a For Sale sign out front. The real estate agent said she couldn't tell us where you went, and I cried for three days."

"Why are you telling me this?" Catra whispers and Adora looks down at her plate. 

"I don't know. I guess - I just want to know what happened. With Weaver."

Lettuce and memories lodges in Catra’s throat. 

She sets down her fork, the sound against the plates resounding through her veins and shaking her bones before picking it back up. 

“I never asked,” Adora murmurs, looking down at her own plate and for the first time in two weeks, that hollowness in Catra’s voice returns. 

It sends shivers down Adora's spine. That dead look in Catra's eyes is something she hasn't missed these past two weeks.

What's worse is that  _ she  _ caused it.

Shrugging, Catra pushes around the ranch-soaked leaves. “As soon as I turned eighteen, I applied to colleges and took her abuse case to court. Last I heard she’s got four years left in a women's correctional center.”

“Oh.”

Silence falls, and Catra forces the food down her throat even if only to convince herself she’s okay. Even the mention of Weaver makes the scars on her upper arms sting from that glass vase she had thrown before chaining her to the radiator in the upstairs bathroom. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to come home to you.”

Catra’s shaking her head before the words have fully left Adora’s lips. “Adora-“ she starts, reaching out to set a hand on hers, “I’m not mad.”

“Well you should be,” Adora spits, staring down at her plate. Catra knows she’s not angry at anyone but herself, but the words slip a knife between her ribs anyways. “I left you and convinced myself for all these years that I did enough to try and find you.”

“You have to forgive yourself some time, princess.”

The nickname makes her look up. 

Whatever she's about to say dies on Catra’s tongue as she sees the  _ guilt  _ in her best friend’s eyes. Her grip tightens on Adora’s hand. “I’m serious. I’ve forgiven you, but at some point you have to do the hardest part and forgive yourself.”

“What if I can’t?”

Catra has never heard Adora’s voice so _v_ _ ulnerable _ . While she’s always been more transparent when it comes to her feelings, there’s a warble to her tone that threatens to give way to tears any second. 

She knows there isn’t much holding that back. 

There's no hesitation when Catra gets up and wraps her arms around Adora. The hardwood floor bites into her knees, but she buries her face in Adora's shoulder, feels the shudder of her body against hers. 

"Let it all go," she whispers, and Adora breaks.

Rolling sobs wrack through Adora's body. Catra holds her through it all, fingers tracing circles on her back. She knows she'll have a crick in her neck, her knees will pop when she stands up after, but Adora  _ needs _  this.

She stays.

Adora's tears soak through her shirt in a few minutes, but she pays it no mind. "I'm here," she soothes, holding her best friend close as a decade of guilt washes over her. "I'm here, Adora. I've got you, and you've got me."

"You promise?"

Adora's voice is quiet, shaking with tears. The simple phrase takes Catra back years and years, to sitting on Adora's twin bed in the dark and linking their pinkies together.

"I promise," Catra whispers back and Adora slumps against her.

The weight of her body is comforting, and she doesn't say anything when the shaking turns into trembling. She just keeps rubbing circles into her back, being the anchor that Adora so desperately needs at this exact moment.

Even though she's on the verge of breaking, too.

The feeling wells up inside her chest, threatening to burst forth. She doesn't know how, but somehow she tampers it down enough to focus on Adora. They both have so much healing to do, and this friendship is shaky to the point of tiptoeing around each other.

But it's something.

Catra finds that if nothing else, she would be content with this.

This, not a romance. This, nothing more than a friendship closer than a sibling bond and stronger than whatever their foster mom had thrown at them.

This.

Adora and Catra.

Catra and Adora.

_ You promise? _

_ I promise. _


End file.
